


Queen of Knives

by spice_coffee



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Occasional Shameless Fluff, Random Acts of Bard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spice_coffee/pseuds/spice_coffee
Summary: Unlikely childhood friends are reunited under the banner of the Grey Wardens and are given the near-impossible task of saving their homeland from the scourge of the Fifth Blight.





	1. No Fighting, No Hooliganry

**Preface: From the Notes of Sister Felicitas, Chantry Scholar**

 

_Anecdotal evidence from a survivor of Lothering states that during his brief stop there in the early days of the Fifth Blight, King Alistair openly mused about the accuracy of statuary depicting the Blessed Andraste. There are no records to either support or counter his theories. However, on the topic of statues, I can attest to the accuracy of the figure representing the Hero of Ferelden near the site of her historic victory over the Archdemon Urthemiel at Fort Drakon. Even when carved in stone, the visage of Velaine Cousland projects an air of serene competence which seems to tell all who pass by to stand tall and be strong, no matter the odds._

_That said, this is only one of the faces worn by the recently-crowned Queen. I have been tasked with recording accounts of her heroism and the work is… more challenging than I’d like to admit. I understand that she has endured great tragedy, but even I will admit that my patience is strained when she tells me to my face that there are things that she will not speak of. She omits the tales of her greatest triumphs, but delves into… other matters… with salacious detail that tests the strength of my sacred vows._

_And then yet there are other times when she shrugs and says, “Ask my husband. He was there.” When she says that, there’s no persuading her otherwise… and that poses its own unique set of challenges. Sometimes the King humors my requests, but other times, there’s a marked hesitation. “Did my wife tell you to ask me about that?” I’ll nod, and he sighs. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember.” I get the distinct feeling that he’s lying, but I dare not challenge him._

_May the Maker look favorably upon my efforts and forgive my shortcomings, as my records are only as accurate as the mortal minds which contribute._

 

* * *

  

**-VELAINE-**

 

I don’t remember much of my first visit to Redcliffe Castle. I know that I was eight years old and a proper hellion unless sufficiently convinced to behave. I liked to sing, I liked to read heroic tales, and I loved to scrap with my older brother Fergus. Apparently I also liked to steal back then, too, and if it involved food from the larder my hound Norris was often a willing accomplice. In a sense you could say that not much has changed.

My nursemaid liked to remind me often about what a pill I’d been. The journey to Redcliffe wasn’t long – scarcely more than a day – but I’d been forced to wear dresses and to leave both Norris and my treasured dagger at home. In hindsight, perhaps it’s a good thing that the blade stayed back in Highever, or else things would have turned out very differently.

We were greeted upon our arrival by a steward who showed us to our rooms and made sure that our belongings were safely stored. Mother left me in Nan’s care while she went to greet our hosts. Nan inquired as to the location of the kitchen and dragged me along, then plopped me in a corner while she talked to the staff. We only left when the cook said that it was time to start preparing dinner and Nan resigned herself to making me look presentable for the occasion. That meant a change of more clothes – another dress! - and brushing my hair. She assaulted the tangles with a ferocity I’ve only ever seen directed towards darkspawn and it made my scalp ache to say the least.

“Maker’s sake, Velaine, quit fidgeting! I can’t make your hair behave if you keep squirming like that.”

I made a face at her. “But then you’ll put it up and pin it, Nan, and you always stick me in the head with the pins!”

“Well,” she said, grumbling under her breath as she attacked a ferocious tangle with the brush, “Maybe I wouldn’t stick you in the head if you just sat still and let me work.”

“Any progress?”

We both looked up as my mother entered the chamber. “Very little, your ladyship. Your daughter’s hair is tangled worse than a bramble patch. I don’t know how she does it.”

“Why don’t you lie down for a moment? It’s been a long journey and I’m sure this latest battle isn’t helping.”

“You’re too kind, Lady Eleanor. I stand relieved.” Nan gave me a significant look before leaving for the adjoining bedroom, pausing only to hand the brush over to my mother.

I scowled at her caretaker while my mother’s back was turned but failed to compose myself before Eleanor spotted my expression. “Save your glaring for your enemies, Velaine. Nan is only trying to help you.”

“How, by pulling on my hair? It hurts, Mother.”

Eleanor resumed Nan’s task with a gentler, more patient touch. “She is no more rough than she usually is, dearest. Tell me why you’re really upset.”

“Fergus got to stay with Father at the castle. He told me that Father was going to help him with his sword work and I had to go with you because I’m a girl and need to learn how to act like one.”

Eleanor snorted. “Fergus obviously has a lot to learn about girls, Velaine. I’ll have a chat with him when we get back. It’s not too early to teach you about diplomacy, though, and that’s why we’re here.”

“Diplomacy?” I mouthed the word and grimaced, earning a light tap of discipline with the brush on the top of her head. “What is that?”

“It’s how people get along with other people so that they don’t have to fight.” Eleanor worked the brush through another tangle and muttered an oath under her breath. “And before you say it, dearest, most times it’s better not to fight. It takes more work, but it lasts longer and people don’t get hurt.”

“That sounds boring.”

“I know, Velaine, I know. But your father trusts me.” Her task complete, Eleanor put the brush down on the table and picked up the clip that Nan had left out. “Arl Eamon is a good man, but we don’t know his wife. They have been kind enough to invite us to visit for the next three days, though, so please promise me you’ll behave.”

“But Nan drags me everywhere like a hound on a leash!” I wiped tears away from my eyes. “She made me sit in the corner in the kitchen while she got recipes from the cook! Told me to sit and be quiet and not get into anything.”

“It wouldn’t have been any more exciting with me, dearest,” Eleanor said. “Now dry your eyes and try to smile. We want the arl and arlessa to see just how pretty you are.” Seeing the hint of a frown creep over my face again, Eleanor sighed. “All right. If you mind your manners, I’ll see if I can get Nan to ease up on you. How does that sound?” I stopped frowning but could not completely hide the trembling lips of unshed tears. “Come on, then. You’re going to have to start learning this some day.”

 

* * *

  

**-ALISTAIR-**

 

It’s common knowledge that I was raised from infancy in Redcliffe and that Arl Eamon was my guardian. It wasn’t the best life, but it was comfortable enough. Then he married Isolde and my lot changed. I know it was because she had her suspicions about who my real parents were as well as Eamon’s reasoning for keeping me around the castle, but that doesn’t mean she had to be such a terror about it.

I was nine when the teyrna of Highever came to visit. As was the case whenever Isolde was entertaining guests, she made plans for a grand formal dinner and then made sure that I was tidily out of sight, usually tucked away in the study with a book or in the kitchens or something like that. There seemed to be even more fuss than usual this time, and when I heard the name ‘Cousland’ mentioned I dashed back to the arl’s study to see what his history books had to say about the family.

A lot of it was over my head at that point but I understood one thing as the evening passed – these people were second in authority only to the king and as such it would be best if I just stayed out of the way. The only thing that piqued my interest was overhearing that the teyrna had brought her daughter along. None of the village children wanted anything to do with me, and there were no noble children in the area that I could spend time with. So I was curious about Velaine, if for no other reason than she might be as bored as I was.

I got so caught up in my reading that I missed the dinner that had been set aside for me in the kitchen. I even dozed off in the arl’s chair and only woke up in the dead of night when the book fell from my hands and hit the floor with a loud thunk. Then I realized the hour and that I was very hungry. There’d be no harm in me going for a snack, I thought, so I tiptoed out of the study and made my way through the quiet halls and down the stairs to the kitchen.

I stopped up short when I heard footsteps on the stone floor, and I crept up to the doorway to try to get a better look at who else had the same idea as me. My curiosity was rewarded with an alarmed squeak and a dark blur as whoever it was lobbed the first projectile at hand in the direction of my head. I ducked and tried to get out of the way as the intruder dashed past me, not expecting them to stick their foot out and trip me so that I fell to the floor. I saw the hem of a nightgown fluttering above bare feet and then she was gone. It took a moment for me to register that I’d just been clotheslined by a girl – and a girl of my age. Had I just been tripped by Velaine Cousland?

It did me little good to lie there and think about it, so I picked myself up and dusted myself off. A quick search found what she’d thrown at my head – an apple. There was no sense in wasting good food, so I picked it up and wiped it off on my tunic and then took a bite. It was crisp and sweet with just a little bit of bite in the juice. I still remember that taste even now.

 

* * *

 

  **-VELAINE-**

 

I was too frightened to remember that I was hungry when I returned that night to the room I shared with my mother and Nan. The latter slept on a pallet on the floor and did not wake as I crept by. My mother stirred and muttered in her sleep but likewise did not rise when I carefully peeled the sheets back and slid back in next to her. Who was that boy that I’d seen in the kitchen? I hadn’t remembered seeing any children my age around the castle that day, nor had I heard mention of any. Or that’s what I thought at first. I snuggled up close to my mother and tried to fall asleep again. Only when I was on the doorstep of slumber did I remember the kitchen staff setting some food aside for the arl’s ward. _What was his name – Alistair?_

 

I woke up again and it was morning. Nan stood over me with an impatient look on her face. “Well, good morning, sleeping beauty! Up you get – you need a bath.”

I allowed Nan to shepherd me over to the tub and scrub me down, not making a peep when she applied the brush with enough force to turn my back pink and raw. “I don’t know what you did yesterday, but you obviously impressed someone. I’ve been told that you’re to have the run of the castle today while your mother visits with the arlessa.” This news made me sit up straight in excitement, a thrill which was then quashed by Nan’s next words. “Just so long as you behave yourself. No fighting, no hooliganry... and don’t go down into the village. Those are the rules. Understand?”

“Yes, Nan. Thank you.” I let her dry me off and dress me, but I was off before she could attack my hair again.

 

While Castle Redcliffe wasn’t as big as my family’s home, it was meticulously well-kept and full of interesting things. One of the guards even directed me to Arl Eamon’s study upon hearing that I liked to read and I went there right away. It only took a moment for me to find a book about dragons and I settled into a corner in contentment to consider my prize. The mystery of the boy I’d encountered in the kitchen would have to wait.

I don’t know how much time passed while I was reading. All I know is that I was halfway through the tome when a voice intruded on my sanctuary. “It’s you, the girl from the kitchen!” I stared up at the boy, my vocal cords temporarily frozen by surprise. He grinned and raised his hands in mock defense, said, “Please don’t throw that book at me. It’s got corners and those hurt.” I looked down at the book, not realizing that I’d unconsciously shifted it in my hands to be more easily tossed, and I guiltily tucked it out of reach. “That’s better,” the boy said, sitting down next to me and picking the book up for himself. “So you like dragons? I like you already.”

I was flattered but confused by this sudden onslaught of friendliness. “Excuse me, but who are you, exactly?”

“Oh!” The boy looked up from the book with a faint embarrassed flush on his face. “I didn’t need to be rude, your ladyship. I’m Arl Eamon’s ward – my name is Alistair.”

“I thought I’d heard the kitchen staff mention you yesterday. Why weren’t you at dinner with the arl and arlessa, then?”

A pained smile, trying to cover up some much deeper hurt. “Lady Isolde doesn’t want me around at those kinds of functions. She thinks I’ll embarrass her.”

“At least you don’t have to be told how to act,” I said, remembering the speech that my mother had given me just before we’d entered the dining room. “Only speak when spoken to. Don’t chew with your mouth open. Don’t talk with food in your mouth. Elbows off the table! And that’s not even all of the rules for being a proper lady.”

“What, like not throwing apples at boys? How about not tripping people?” I swatted him across the arm and he yelped, though by the end it was more surprised laughter than pain. “You’ve got a strong arm, your ladyship. But I’m not surprised. Did you know that your many-times-great-grandmother fought werewolves?”

I blinked but couldn’t help a smile at his enthusiasm. “I didn’t know that. And you can call me Velaine.”

 

While I was too young to realize it at the time, when I thought back on it later it was plain that Alistair was bright, charming, loyal, brave, and utterly lonely. Being confined to the castle and the village did him little good and he seemed genuinely sad when it was time for my mother and I to leave. I didn’t know the truth behind his parentage at that time either or that it was the root of his ill-treatment and subsequent melancholy. All I saw was a boy roughly my own age who liked many of the same things that I did and who desperately needed a friend.

It was only during dinner upon our return to Highever that I started to learn the truth. It didn’t deter me in the slightest, mind, because I’ve never placed too much of a premium on one’s bloodline. The first time the subject came up was when we were gathered as a family for a private dinner the first night after my mother and I had returned.

“Your mother tells me that you made a friend,” my father said, interjecting on Fergus regaling me on what he’d learned in weapons practice. “Some young lad around the castle. Said that you two were thick as thieves – right, Eleanor?”

“They certainly seemed to get on well,” my mother replied. Something about her seemed reserved, though I didn’t know the cause. “Every night after dinner until we went to bed she was chattering my ear off about him.”

“Ooooh,” Fergus murmured. “My little sister’s got a sweetie – ow!” He shot me a glare over the table and doubtless began to massage his toes, sore from my swift stomp of retribution.

My father smiled at this interchange but chose not to comment. “So, tell me about him.”

“He’s funny, he’s nice, and he doesn’t think that girls shouldn’t learn how to fight.” Fergus’ glare deepened and I made a face at him. “He likes dragons and werewolves and things like that, too.”

This got an intrigued raise of eyebrows from my father. “I didn’t know that such a boy existed in Castle Redcliffe. Did you happen to get his name?”

“Alistair.”

That one word shattered the calm atmosphere as effectively as a cannonball. My father looked shocked, my mother looked pained, and my brother gaped at me with malicious glee. “You do know that Alistair is a bastard, don’t you?” asked Fergus.

“That’s enough from you, Fergus,” my father growled at him. “Go to your room and be quiet.”

Fergus got up from the table and left, but not before giving me a vicious poke in the side on the way past. My father saw this too and gave him a stern look that promised a good talking-to in the near future, then sighed and looked at my mother with a troubled expression. “Do you want to handle this, dear, or should I?”

“I’ll tell her.” My mother took a moment to compose herself, then said, “What Fergus meant is that Alistair’s parents weren’t married. He just used a rude word for it, and that’s not one I want to hear coming from your mouth in this castle. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Mother.” But something else seemed off, even though this had been explained. “What’s so bad about that?”

“Nothing, dear. He seems like a good lad, and it’s okay to be his friend, but it’s not appropriate for you to spend too much time with him.”

I saw my parents trade another look and gathered some of the meaning behind it. “Is this grownup stuff?”

“Yes, pup, I’m afraid so.” My father answered this time, smiling sadly as he did. “I’m sorry. I can see how much you like him.”

 


	2. Waiting to be Wanted

**-ALISTAIR-**

 

My tenth birthday was one of the best days and one of the worst days in my life. I was allowed to pick whatever I wanted for dinner and for once no one said anything when I had an extra helping or three of dessert. I even got a present all the way from Highever – a leatherbound and obviously expensive volume of research regarding the evolution of dragons which covered the subject in much greater depth than the book in the arl’s study. But the bigger treat was the scrap of paper tucked inside, the simple message of congratulations inscribed in Velaine’s hesitant but tidy handwriting. She had recently had her own birthday, her ninth, and though she was excited about growing older she was careful not to include many details of the celebration in the letters that had come since then. It made me wonder if she had been told about my background or if she was just trying to be considerate. But, either way, it amazed me that she had paid attention to anything about me and had gone to the trouble to give me something so nice.

I was summoned to the arl’s study after dinner and I raced off to see what he wanted, eager to show him my prize. He loves good books as much as I do and I thought he’d like to see what my friend had sent to me.

“You asked for me?”

The arl looked up from a pile of correspondence on his desk and nodded. “I did. Have you had a good birthday so far?”

“It’s been great. Look, Velaine even sent me a present!”

I put the book on his desk where he could look at it, which he did with great interest. “Velaine – your friend from Highever, yes? This is a good choice. She obviously knows you well.” I nodded happy agreement with him but didn’t reply because it was obvious he wasn’t done yet. “And I have a gift for you myself. I would have given it to you earlier, but it didn’t seem appropriate.”

The book momentarily forgotten, I took a step back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eamon opened up one of the drawers in the desk and brought out a small velvet pouch which he then tossed to me. I caught it and eased open the strings, allowing a small silver amulet on a silver chain to fall into my open palm. The amulet was a masterwork of craftsmanship, delicate yet strong, and quite valuable. “This belonged to your mother. I think she would like you to have it.”

I didn’t know what to say, what to think, what to do. I’d been told that my mother had died in childbirth, but I’d yet to see any trace of her until that day. It seemed that an eternity of moments passed before I could choke out my thanks, and I was too stunned by this gift to see the seriousness on Eamon’s face. “You’re quite welcome, lad. Now close the door, if you would. I need to tell you something else.” I closed the door as he asked and stood awaiting his words. “Now, let me start off by saying that I know of the... lack of warmth between you and my wife. It’s quite obvious what you two think of each other.” I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic and he held up his hand to forestall me. “You also know that I love you like my own son, and that’s what makes this so hard.”

Dread crept up through me like cold seeping in through the stone floor beneath my feet. “Why do I know that I’m not going to like this?”

“It pains me to say, so, Alistair, but Isolde has asked me to send you away. She thinks that you’re my son and I haven’t had the heart to tell her the truth.”

Anger flared and cleared the fog of sentiment from my thoughts. “So you’re going to throw me out like trash, just because Isolde doesn’t like me?”

“It’s not that she doesn’t like you - ”

“And you were too much of a coward to tell her that I’m not yours? I don’t believe you!”

Eamon let out a pained sigh and covered his face with his hands. “It’s not as if I want to do this, Alistair! We’re sending you to a monastery not far from Denerim where you can study and be brought up well. You’ll get the life that you deserve, a good one, not being shooed out of the way just because Isolde thinks you’re inconvenient. I’m doing this because I love you, remember that.”

I was so pissed off at this seeming betrayal that I flung the amulet away from me like it was molten hot. I dimly remember it breaking into pieces on the floor, but I didn’t stop to think of what I’d done because I was already out the door.

 

I was sent off to the monastery the next day. The preparations had been put in place for some time and they had only been waiting for me to be of the proper age. It was a bitter, gray day and I’d like to think that the Maker had heard my thoughts and given a suitable atmosphere for my departure. So I was packed away along with what few possessions I had – clothes, books, and the letters from Velaine that I’d kept hidden from the eyes of others. The arl also sent along a substantial contribution to the monastery as thanks for their assistance and I think this played the largest part in the fact that, despite my ill behavior, the brothers and sisters didn’t leave me out in the woods to be eaten by wolves.

Out of all of the clergy there, it was only the leader of the monks who seemed to take a genuine interest in my well-being that hadn’t been motivated by money. I’m not sure what he saw in me, but Cadric took it upon himself from the day that I arrived to make sure that I was not neglected. I repaid his kindness with pranks, sulks, and occasionally bullying the other acolytes who were studying at the monastery. He in turn gently but firmly reminded me of my place and that such a petty attitude would get me nowhere. I spent a lot of time in the kitchens scrubbing pots, and after one nasty incident where I spiked the archivist’s evening wine I spent three days in solitude subsisting only on bread and water so that I could contemplate my sins.

The worst part of that time was that, once again, I felt completely alone. For a short while before I’d been sent away I’d had the slender thread of companionship offered by Velaine’s innocent missives from Highever, but I hadn’t heard from her since my move and part of me doubted that she’d even been told what happened to me.

Despite my youthful miscreantism, Cadric saw the glint of promise and a fighting spirit that could not be quelled. That paired with my thirst for learning ensured that I was selected for training as a Templar at the age of eleven. I remained at the monastery but was instead moved into a barracks with the rest of the trainees. It did not take long, however, for the news of my lineage to circulate among my new family. This brought me disdain at best and at worst a solid thumping when those senior to me thought I was stepping out of line. But at least here I could learn something, maybe do some good. It was far better than languishing around the castle waiting to be wanted.


	3. "I'm not in love, and you're being a pain"

**-VELAINE-**

 

_Three years later..._

“What do you mean, he’s at a monastery? What happened to him? I thought he was dead!”

Sister Finnia, our castle’s Chantry messenger, smiled and held up her hands to defend against the onslaught of questions. “It took me some time to find him, your ladyship, but I can assure you that young Alistair is most certainly alive. Your friend’s foster mother took issue with having him around the castle and requested of Eamon that he be sent away.”

“That... that witch! I knew there was something off about her.” I sank down into the cushions of the pew so that I wouldn’t wear a hole in the carpet with my pacing. “That explains why none of my letters went through, though. How long has he been there? Is he all right?”

Finnia’s smile widened, though I did not know precisely why. “Three years. He’s all right, if not exactly happy. Brother Cadric has directed him to begin training as a Templar. It’s an honorable enough profession. You should be happy for him. Not every man has what it takes to pursue such a path.”

My heart leapt in my chest and for a moment I found it hard to think. “Could you send him a message for me? He needs to know that I haven’t forgotten him and that I’m not mad at him for not writing to me.”

The sister nodded, again with that maddening smile. “Just bring the message to me when you are ready, your ladyship, and I will make sure that it is delivered.”

I skipped weapons practice that day and instead spent the time sequestered in my room, trying to best marshal the thoughts swirling through my head. But I soon found that task as difficult as trying to catch fish with my bare hands and became so consumed with it that I only emerged from my room to eat dinner. Even then I was preoccupied and missed much of the conversation, only giving the most basic of answers so that I would be left in peace. What could I say? How would I say it?

“Looks like someone’s in love...”

I ignored Fergus’ taunting, stalking down the hall toward my room so that I could continue the ordeal that dinner had interrupted in so untimely a fashion. My brother only took that as a sign that he was onto something and pursued me further.

“So who is the lucky boy or girl? Do you need your big brother to talk to them for you? I’d be happy to help - ”

“No, you may not!” I stopped up just short of the door to my room and rounded on Fergus. “Not everything is about wooing and matchmaking. Not at my age, anyway.”

Fergus let out a barking laugh. “I’ll just let you think that, sister mine. You haven’t seen some of the letters that Mother has gotten inquiring as to your... availability.”

“That’s just gross! Now go away, Fergus. I’m not in love, and you’re being a pain.”

“But you skipped weapons practice, Vel. Either you’re sick or you’re pining. Which is it?”

I rolled my eyes. “None of your business is what it is. Go and bother someone else, would you?”

“Fine, but I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ when I have to turn the poor swain away at the gate.”

Then Fergus was gone and I was left alone with my muddled mind and a pile of ruined sheets of paper. I was thirteen and as much as it made my guts knot up, in a way Fergus was right. My parents would start looking for matches for me soon and I would have little say in the matter – and an alliance with one of two remaining teyrnirs in Ferelden would surely be a prize for any noble family. It would do me no harm to reach out for a friend, though, and Maker knew I would need one.

 

_Dear Alistair -_

_I’m glad to hear that you are alive and well. It took some doing to find out what had happened to you and I feared the worst after having not heard from you for so long. But I hear that you are at a monastery not far from Denerim and that you are to be a templar. That sounds exciting! Who knows, you might get your chance to be a hero after all, just like in the books._

_As for me, I am well. I’m still in Highever and have little occasion to leave. Fergus says that Mother and Father will start looking for a suitable match for me very soon and it scares me. What kind of man of any kind of decent upbringing would want a girl who would rather practice knife-throwing than needlepoint and who would rather wear a good set of fighting leathers than an expensive gown? At least you don’t have to deal with that where you are. Templars don’t have to worry about marriage or being sold off like a cow to the highest bidder. You’re lucky._

_Please write back to me if you can and tell me what you’ve been up to. I’ll understand if you can’t, though. I’m just happy that you’re still alive._

_-Velaine-_

I slipped the message in with several others which my mother had asked me to hand off to Finnia, and when she saw it I swear to Andraste that she giggled under her breath. Then all I could do was wait. I threw myself with doubled vigor into my studies so that my parents wouldn’t be suspicious, spending the mornings with my tutor and the afternoons training in archery or bladework or with my hound. Norris had been a gift to me from my father on my fifth birthday - “a pup for my pup,” he’d reportedly said – and in the years that had passed the mabari had grown big and strong.

But as noble and loyal of a protector as Norris was, even the hound’s strength and bulk could not protect me from the worry that gnawed at the back of my mind. As the days passed there was no doubt in my thoughts that I’d made a huge mistake by trying to contact Alistair. Maybe my parents were right after all. Though I wasn’t the heir, I was second in line to inherit the Cousland teyrnir and I had no business dallying with a commoner in any capacity.

It was only a week after I’d sent the message that it finally hit me. I’d spent the day studiously ignoring the calf-eyed stares of some lordling that had been sent to speak with my father about one thing or the other and as such I’d gone to bed in a foul mood and found it difficult to sleep. Then insight struck: _Blessed Maker, they think I want to marry him!_ The thought was enough to keep me awake for the rest of the night and my mood was even worse when it came time for the morning meal. Fortunately Norris was able to keep everyone away from me and my mother sent me back to bed, thinking that I was ill.

A knock on my door in the mid-afternoon awoke me from a feverish sleep and I rose to open the door. It was Sister Finnia bearing a tray that in turn carried a bowl of soup and a mug of tea. “I heard that you were unwell, my lady,” the sister said. “Hopefully this will make you feel better.” I then caught a glimpse of the paper tucked underneath the bowl and I said nothing, only gave a shaky nod to show that I’d seen it. “My prayers are with you. Call for me if you have further need.”

I took the tray to bed and took my time with the soup. It was one of Nan’s best recipes and did wonders for the spirit as well as the stomach even if one wasn’t sick. Then I lingered over the tea, eyeing the sealed envelope remaining on the tray as if it were a poisonous creature ready to strike. Finally I plucked up my courage and broke the seal.

 

_Dear Velaine -_

_Thank you for being so concerned. You have no idea how glad I am to hear from you, and I’m even happier that you aren’t mad with me. I had no clue that they were going to send me away and I had no way to reach you and it would have killed me to find out that I’d made you angry. But you’re not, so that’s good. Very good._

_It’s not as exciting as you’d think here. I work my hardest but it’s never good enough. It makes sense that they’d hold us to a higher standard than a regular soldier but sometimes I wonder if they reserve some of their punishment especially for me. And I guess I really am lucky that I don’t have to deal with the politics that you do. Just sword drills and learning how to track maleficars and more sword drills and then lectures and... you get the picture. But I’ll do well and soon you’ll be able to say that you knew Alistair, the legendary Templar! Then I’ll be able to come and rescue you and we can go off and hunt dragons together. Or something. Ha. Imagine that._

_I don’t have a lot of time to write and the other trainees are always finding ways to get into my business, so I don’t know how often I’ll be able to. Maker’s breath, it’s been too long. Way too long._

_\- Alistair._

It took all of my restraint not to spit my mouthful of tea all over the paper. The tea went to my windpipe instead and it was all that I could do not to pass out from the ensuing coughing fit. When I regained my senses Norris was nuzzling my hand worriedly. I gave him a reassuring scratch behind the ears but he noticed that something was yet not right and gave a puzzled whine. “Boys,” I told him. “Either trying to woo me or trying to rescue me. It’s tiresome.” The hound grumbled at me and I made a face at him. “You’re a boy, I know, but you’re not a human boy. I’m glad of that, too.” Norris woofed lowly in agreement and let himself be scratched for a few more minutes, then hopped up on the bed and made himself comfortable at my feet.

I spent the next hour or so reading and rereading the letter, parsing every word for hints of hidden nuance, and let myself rest only when I could be assured that there was absolutely nothing untoward. Then I hid the paper with the rest of the letters and laid back against the pillows to sleep in earnest.


	4. "Sound tactical thinking, Alistair"

**-ALISTAIR-**

 

“Did you hear? Brother Cadric is going to make a speech after study time tonight! Something’s got him in a real mood.”

I did my best to ignore the chattering of the other initiates around me. We were supposed to be studying after the evening meal but many of them used it as time to circulate idle gossip. Much of it centered around the clergy or our instructors or, on occasion, tidbits from the outside world. But something more colorful had rippled through the flock with whispers and chuckles and the occasional lewd gesture. I had my suspicions as to what it was but didn’t care to confirm them, instead ducking further into my books whenever the subject came up. This time I put my studies aside and reached for the first book that I could find and buried myself in it so that my ears wouldn’t burn from overhearing.

“I bet it’s about Gadry and that city girl,” another initiate said. “How couldn’t it be, what with the way he’s been boasting?”

“And those letters that he gets from her,” said the first, a knowing leer in his voice. “She’s a right proper tart, that’s for sure.” The initiate stopped for a moment and I breathed a quick prayer of thanks to the Maker. But my gratitude was short-lived. “I hear that Gadry will let you look at the letters for ten silver each. Wonder if I could get a peek tonight...”

“You’ll be peeking at nothing.” A hush fell over the common area as Cadric walked through the doorway, a wolf among chickens. He closed the door and fixed us all with an even stare that brooked no argument and no interruption. “You are right, in a sense. The... developments... concerning your fellow initiate have brought to light a larger issue which I feel has not been properly addressed in some time.” He brought forth a twine-bound packet from the sleeve of his robe and many of the initiates gasped and whispered amongst themselves when they saw that the packet contained an assortment of letters. “I am not saying that the subject of the correspondence between Gadry and his young lady is anything to be ashamed of. It’s a natural part of human life as created by the Maker, and as such it is bound to occupy your thoughts from time to time. There is nothing in your vows that you shall take in the future which expressly forbids such conduct, either, but I think you will find your lives so consumed with your duties that you have little time or energy for pursuits of the flesh. Excise such impurities from your minds now lest they come back to slay you later. Understood?”

The acolytes mumbled their assent and silently waited for Cadric to leave before bursting into chatter again. I sank down as far behind my book as I could go and hoped that the other lads wouldn’t ask me to contribute to the discussion. They mercifully did not and I continued my reading. All seemed peaceful until I saw that someone had discreetly tucked a sealed message in between the cover and front page of the book where no one could see it unless they looked. It was from Velaine.

None of the initiates paid me much notice as I gathered up my study materials and slipped out of the common room. It would be some time before curfew so I knew that I’d have some privacy in the bunk-room. Even so, I quickly secreted the message away so that it looked like I was reading my book if anyone should happen in on me and wonder.

 

_Dear Alistair -_

_Hopefully this finds you well. Things have been just awful around here and I have no one else to talk to about it. My brother has found a match and is to be married in two months – two months! Now the castle is all aflutter with talk of flower arrangements and music and what the bride is going to wear and all of that nonsense. All I know is that her name is Oriana and that she’s from Antiva. The one time I met her, she seemed uppity – but who knows, she might have just been scared. She’s only eighteen. That’s four years older than me and two years younger than Fergus. But you want to know the real stink about the whole thing? The wedding hasn’t even happened yet and already everyone’s looking at me and wondering when I’m going to get it over with._

_I hate it._

_I hate it so much that I’d almost ask to be sent off to the Chantry if I knew it wouldn’t drive me mad with boredom. And it’s not like they allow women to become Templars, or at least not that I know. At least I have Norris to keep me company. Well, that and your letters. I wish I could be there with you now, if only to get away from this madness. And I know it will be your birthday soon. I hope the Maker smiles on you that day – and every day._

_-Velaine-_

It wasn’t hard to see how miserable she was even with the limitation of the written word. I did find solace in the sensation that we were united in our suffering even though we were in two very different situations. The fact of the matter was that we were both trapped with little chance of escape, I in the walls of the monastery and my training and she in the gilded cage of her upbringing. I found myself rereading that last sentence, lingering on it and the warmth it brought from the page. When my eyes flicked down to her name I felt a strange knot gather in my chest. It felt like homesickness tinged with something else I couldn’t identify and it was with that conflict weighting me down that I went to sleep.

 

“Did you hear? Cousland’s son is marrying some Antivan girl!”

“Hah! He’d better watch out that she doesn’t poison his drink. You know what they say about women from Antiva, don’t you?”

“I don’t know, what?”

“Be careful how you stab them, or they might stab you back!”

Laughter from all around the dining hall table greeted this proclamation. I had difficulty laughing with the rest of the initiates but tried nevertheless so that I wouldn’t draw attention to myself. The afternoon meal provided as much an opportunity for gossip as any other time, but it seemed that the news of the upcoming festivities at the teyrnir to the north provided more fertile grounds than usual.

“I heard rumor that we’re sending a delegation to the wedding, trying to foster goodwill between the Chantry and the Couslands. The revered mother, a few other of the clergy, and even a few of us initiates! What do you think of that?”

“Sounds like a real party! Wonder how I might be able to get an invite.”

My ears perked. Idle talk as it might have been, the opportunity was intriguing and I kept my mouth shut so that I could hear more of the conversation.

“I just want to get a look at their daughter. I hear she’s pretty, and a fair hand with a blade.”

“Oh-ho! A fair hand with a blade, you say? Maybe I could test that out for myself.”

I’d heard enough and could stand no more. The bench made a loud scrape as I pushed it back just enough so that I could get up and of course this brought all talk to a sudden halt. Gadry, he of the infamous letters, raised his eyebrows and said, “I’m sorry, Alistair, are we embarrassing you?”

“No. My appetite’s just gone.” I scooped up my bowl and cup so that I could take them over to the dish bucket. “Carry on without me. I’ll see you all at afternoon lectures.”

“I think we offended him,” Gadry sneered. “He thinks he’s highborn, what with his manners and all that.”

This stopped me in my tracks. I spun and glared at him and the rest, growled, “She’s only fourteen years old. You’ve no right to be talking about her like that!”

Gadry sat back a bit, mocking astonishment on his face. “So you’re her champion, then? Pray tell, have you ever met the fair lady?”

I refused to dignify that with an answer, instead making a disgusted sound and turning once more to leave the dining hall. The hoots and whistles of the other lads behind me stung worse than any hits I’d suffered during any sparring sessions to date.

It was obvious at that point that I’d made an enemy with my actions that day. It seemed like I’d been the only one listening during the lecture in which we were told that women were to be valued and respected and that relationships were not to be taken lightly – but more importantly than that, I was not about to let a friend’s name be dragged through the dirt in her absence. But what bothered me more than the teasing that day was the silence that followed. Sure, there were stares and whispers, but no one dared address the subject openly. I did my best to ignore it and to go about my studies. After all, if the rumors were true and a few lucky individuals were to be selected to represent the Templar trainees in the monastery’s delegation, I wanted to give them every reason in the world to select me. I would be as diligent, punctual, and respectful as possible and I would not let someone like Gadry derail me from my purpose.

A month passed with no word, then six weeks. Before I knew it, it was my fifteenth birthday. The other initiates knew this too and took the opportunity to make sport of their knowledge over the evening meal.

“Hey, everyone, it’s Alistair’s birthday!” Gadry, of course, led the charge. “Tell me, Alistair, did you get anything nice? Maybe a gift from your parents.” I felt my jaw tighten in response to this but I refused to answer. “Aw, nothing at all? Perhaps something from your lady, then!”

Cheers from the other initiates to this and expectant stares in my direction. I remained silent and finished my meal, then excused myself and went to the common room to get a leg up on the reading for the next day’s lecture. We were to begin our discussions on magical theory and I didn’t want to be the drooling idiot in the corner with no clue what was going on.

My peace was interrupted shortly afterward by the other initiates who to all intents and purposes had the same idea as I did. The pack meandered into the room in ones and twos, settling around the perimeter of the room with their scrolls and other papers and doing their best to appear studious and innocent. Gadry strolled in last, chewing on a toothpick which he spat off to the side in an attitude of casual arrogance as he approached the table where I sat alone. “Trying to get ahead of us already, I see. Mind if I have a seat? I’d love to pick your brain.”

His hand was on the back of the chair opposite mine before I could tell him to go away. Fortunately my mind was faster than my mouth and I snagged the bottom of the chair seat with my foot so that the chair wouldn’t move. “No. I prefer to study by myself.”

“Too bad.” Gadry tugged at the chair again and gave it a foul look when it refused to budge. He turned the look on me, growled, “Trying to be cute, now, are we? You think that you get a table to yourself just because you’re some nobleman’s by-blow. Give it over.”

“No,” I repeated. “I just refuse to share my knowledge with pigs who don’t know what to do with what they’re given. Go and bother someone else.”

“No.” Gadry spat my words back at me, even mocking my tone with a supercilious sneer. He then reached down and plucked the scroll I was reading from my hands and tossed it to the floor. The rest of my study material soon followed as he swept it all off of the table. I sighed and got up to tidy the mess, determined not to give him any more ammunition. As it turned out, though, that’s precisely what he expected me to do. As I leaned over to pick up the scrolls, he lashed out with his foot and landed a pointed kick right in my ribs. It hurt like the blazes and I had no time to react as he kicked me again. I coughed and lay there for a moment, trying to piece together what had just happened and how I was going to react.

Gadry made the choice for me. He tired of my lack of response, reached down, and hauled me up by the collar. “Stand up and fight! Or are you all talk?”

I responded by swiftly kneeing him in the groin. He released me and toppled like a felled oak. I wasted no time, lunging forward so that I could land the coup de grace on his defenseless skull. Gadry somehow anticipated this in the midst of his agony and rolled off to the side, then regained his feet and sprang at me with fury in his eyes. I dodged his charge with a nimble sidestep and sped his passage with a shove to the back.

I expected him to recover his footing quickly and turn to face me once more. I did not expect him to plant his foot, pivot, and use the momentum to pummel me with a fist that seemed more iron than flesh. The last thing that passed through my mind before darkness took me was an acute sympathy for a castle gate under assault from a battering ram. Then I fell unconscious and collapsed to the floor.

 

I came to in the infirmary. My left eye was swollen shut and my head ached, and even the quiet steps of the healer nearby sounded like an army marching through the room. She finally finished her work and came to my bedside with a soothing poultice wrapped in a cloth which she applied to my face. “Just lie back and relax,” she murmured. “You took quite the thumping back there, and you’re lucky that Brother Cadric stepped in when he did.”

The door creaked open and another person entered. Through my blurred vision I could barely make out the form of Cadric, his features creased in anger and worry. I tried to sit up as a token of respect but was firmly held back by the healer. “Yes, you were quite lucky. I don’t know what you said to make Gadry angry like that, but you’re lucky that you didn’t lose an eye – or worse.”

“He was interrupting my studies, Brother. I told him that he couldn’t study with me, and he took offense.”

Cadric made an intrigued sound. “Is that so. I have witnesses who claim that you called him a pig.”

“That’s because he is one, Brother Cadric.” I smiled in spite of myself, said, “He insulted my lineage, so I reminded him of his.”

The brother snorted. “And so you deliberately infuriated a lad three years your senior and nearly twice your size. Sound tactical thinking, Alistair.” Cadric paused and looked me over. “Still, it could have been much worse. That’s good, because I’ve already told the Couslands’ chamberlain that you’ll be attending the wedding. As part of the delegation, of course.”

This shocked me into sitting up, meriting another push back down from the healer. “Me? Why me?”

“Because despite your attitude, you are one of the more promising initiates that we have.” Cadric sighed. “So, unfortunately, is Gadry. He will be attending as well.” I scowled, meriting a dry chuckle in response. “Just do me a favor, if you would, and promise that there will be no fisticuffs during the ceremony.”

 


End file.
